I knew it was wrong.”
“Sorry doesn’t give me back five years,” Ava said.
He didn’t argue with that.
“Marcus.” I leaned forward.
“I need you to make a statement.
To the police.
Everything Daniel told you that night.”
His jaw tightened.
“Ellen—”
“He let a sixteen-year-old girl take the blame for something he did.
He watched me grieve for five years.
He stood at our daughter’s grave.” My voice stayed level.
I needed it to stay level.
“He is still in my house.”
Marcus looked at the table for a long moment.
“If I do this,” he said slowly, “it ends everything.
My family—”
“Your family ended the night he made that phone call,” I said.
“You’ve just been pretending otherwise.”
The kitchen was very quiet.
Then Marcus stood up and walked to the counter.
He opened a drawer and removed a small envelope.
He set it in front of me.
